Childhood
by Cerulean Pen
Summary: Ever since she was eight, Molly Davis wanted to be grownup: not an adult, but a teenager, she wanted to live an exciting life. Well, being a teenager is about to destroy everything good to her: including her childhood.
1. Chapter 1: Nightlights and Night Lights

Childhood

Summary: Ever since she was eight, Molly Davis wanted to be grownup: not an adult, but a teenager, she wanted to live an exciting life. Well, being a teenager is about to destroy everything good to her: including her childhood.

English Family/Hurt/Comfort Rated: T Chapters: Words: Molly & Andy D.

Chapter 1:

Nightlight or Night Lights

Ever since Molly Davis was eight years old, she wanted to be grownup: not an adult exactly, but a teenager, to live an exciting life. She didn't care if this meant ditching her golden curls, pink dresses, countless hours spent with Barbie dolls and accessories, on her knees, sometimes even merging her toys with her brother's to create a playtime epic. This was gone now, lost to make-up, a curling iron, Tiger Beat and People magazines, clothes from Abercrombie, carrying a purse around instead of a doll. The transformation from child to teen had come early for her, but only because she had inflicted it upon herself. Still, she couldn't ignore the way her brother sighed softly when he visited from college, because she knew he was thinking about her former self.

Well now, Molly Davis was what she had always wanted to be: she was sixteen years old. Nights were spent at parties, clubs, and the occasional bar, just because her friend, Denise, had sprung for a fake ID for both of them. She never thought about that little girl she had once been when she was looking at the bottom of a bottle, music blaring so loud, blinded by multi-colored lights. This was where she belonged, not in her bedroom with her dumb toys, where was the fun in that?

"Molly?"

Her boyfriend, Zeke, nudged her arm, as Molly blinked her ice blue eyes a few time, realizing that she was gripping the neck of her beer bottle, her head aching. Being hung-over was no picnic, but the feeling never lasted long, because she just visited the club the next night to drink a few more bottles. She had never gotten incredibly drunk; Molly had seen what that looked like, and she didn't exactly want that to happen to her. "Hey babe, you kind of zoned out, wanna go back to my place to sleep?"

"Yeah," Molly mumbled, placing the empty bottle of booze on the table, clumsily pulling her cell phone out of short's pocket. She cleared her throat, hoping she would sound sober enough to fool her mother, thankful that the night was Friday. Molly dialed her home number, and waited for her mother to pick up, as Zeke went outside to warm up the car. He was a little less drunk then she was, but Molly wasn't aloud to drive, even though she had already acquired her driver's license.

Molly's mother, Jennifer Davis, had taken her little girl's frighteningly quick transition from child to rebellious teen with shock. As a mother, she only wanted the best for her daughter, but this seemed impossible after Molly turned into a drinker. It was fruitless for her to hide this from her mother, nor did she even attempt to mask her nightly trips, because she came home smelling like beer every night. Jennifer sometimes accused herself of failing as a parent: Andy never did such things at Molly's age. Sure, he drank at a few parties, but not until he was seventeen, and even then it was in small quantities, and he asked his mother's permission each time.

Jennifer could've asked, she could've said it at any time, with her head in her hands, with no concern over how Molly answered. "Why can't you be more like Andy?" she would ask, while tears flowed freely from her navy eyes, but never found such courage or ignorance to ask such a question. After losing her husband, Jennifer's world revolved around her children, for their sake and well-being, while still struggling with the grief. It was just too hard.

"Mom?" Molly asked, waiting to see if her mother would answer, knowing that it was almost midnight, and that she would be in bed soon. She cleared her throat once more, ridding any drunken slur from her tone, until she heard Jennifer answer sleepily. "Hey, it's late, and Zeke offered to drive me home so I can stay over at his house for the night. No Mom, he'll be driving, we're just going to be sleeping, I swear on my life, I'll be home before nine, okay? Bye."

Molly slid her cell phone into her pocket, fighting her way back through the crowded club, towards the back door, her eyelids heavy as she searched for Zeke's red SUV in the darkness. He flashed his headlights twice, their little signal, so she stumbled across the parking lot, sliding into the passenger seat, her head immediately laying on his shoulder.

She had met Zeke in her PE class when they were fifteen, and Molly, usually the kind of girl who dates guys a few days, dumps then when they try to get serious, meets a new guy, repeat, fell in love with him. His shaggy blond hair, the surfer dude look, the chocolaty brown eyes, how sexy he looked in a gym uniform. Molly took him to the cafeteria, to the table commonly referred to "Lover's Cavern" and they enjoyed a pleasant lunch period of making out. Ever since then, she had been enjoying her life with him: even Jennifer had to approve of him, even though he did drink, he was a little more responsible then Molly.

When Molly woke up, they had arrived at Zeke's house, the lights off, his parents vacationing in Hawaii for the week, him shaking her shoulder. She slid out of the car, following him inside, up the stairs, into his relatively messy room. Molly, with no pajamas, slid off her silky top and shorts, collapsing on his bed, but not ready to fall asleep quite yet.

Zeke climbed into bed next to her, wearing only a pair of boxers, pulling his arm around her thin, tanned body. She snuggled into his chiseled chest, feeling his strong hands rubbing her back, his fingertips brushing her bra strap. "Babe, why are you so tired, you only had three beers: I should know, because I paid for each freakin' one. You owe me."

"Too tired, can't reach wallet," Molly mumbled, voice muffled by his warm, soft skin, feeling as his hand went deeper into the back of her bra, trying to move out from under his arm. Not only was it a bit disturbing, Zeke's touch tickled there, pulling the blankets over her head. "Babe, please, not right now, I'm so sleepy."

"You owe me."

Molly thinks she fell unconscious after Zeke said that the last time, but she was aware of landing on the floor, her face pressed against an unwashed T-shirt, Zeke's body slowly shifting on top of hers. Someone's hands covered her eyes, then her mouth, as she felt the sensation of someone pulling her underwear off. "Zeke?" Molly mumbled, still disoriented, as his dark brown eyes came into view, his hand covering her mouth again.

"Shh…"

That's when it happened. Molly always pictured her first time to be a pleasurable moment, like her first kiss, slow and magical, so that it made her feel like a princess. This was nothing like what she imagined: this was pain, more painful with each thrust, as she tried to escape from under him. "Don't move, babe." She didn't know what exactly was happening now, but she had to get away from him, had to escape this all.

Molly ran.

Semi-conscious, hung-over, only wearing the top she had managed to grab and her underwear, sixteen year old Molly Davis ran as fast as her bare feet could carry her down the sidewalk, leaving Zeke, in the dark bedroom far behind. Suddenly, she wanted to be four again, playing with a Barbie doll and watching as her brother smiled at her, with no worries or a care in the world.

**Should it be rated M? This is the only sexual content that is truly in the story, but I wasn't sure, so I rated it T, just in case. Pretty darn short for a first chapter, but the story will advance, this is almost like a prologue to it all. Inspiration from LilStarWriter, who suggested I do a story about Molly. Here's to you, Mandy!**


	2. Chapter 2: Barbies and Barbie Dolls

Chapter 2:

Barbies and Barbie Dolls

**Thanks to everyone who reviewed, and I did change the rating to "M" so thanks for that. Writing a fic only about Molly was a very spur of the moment, but I think I'll enjoy it-I always liked Molly. (Also contains a little Andy/Molly-sibling comfort only-because I think that's nice.) Anyway, the chapter came from my best friend, Paige, because we brand this girl from our school-total eleven year old Molly material-a Barbie. So, it's talking about those fake, popular girls and the real dolls. =) Leave a review!**

Molly had no idea how long she ran, mostly because the sensation had made her body numb, her bare feet slapping the asphalt, the chilly night air causing goose bumps to spring up on her arms, blowing her slightly tangled blond curls back. She didn't have a clue how she found her house in her condition-must've been some kind of instinct-but she just fumbled for the front door, tiptoeing into the, suddenly too dark, house.

The living room had never looked so inviting, as she stumbled in, collapsed on the couch, hugged a throw pillow to her chest, and began to cry, streaks of mascara staining the soft, velvety surface of the pillow. How could this happen? Molly had been dating Zeke for a year, and he had never mentioned doing it, nor did she want to do it until they were _much_ older. Because of him, in that messy, dark bedroom, she had lost so many things: her childhood, her virginity, it was all gone, because of him. Was it because he was more drunk then she thought, or something…else?

"Molly?"

Faintly aware of a light switching on above her, her mother's sleepy voice, the creak of the couch as Jennifer sat next to her, pulling her daughter closer. Molly had never felt so safe in her life, a sixteen year old nestled in their mother's arms, sobbing, trying to figure out what had just happened. Hands, soft this time, stroked her bare, freezing arm, a body, furry because it belonged to Buster, settled on her scratched feet.

Finally, when she had collected herself enough to speak, Molly looked up, face both pale from the cold and pink from the blush that had been smeared over her cheeks, mascara flecks under her eyes. Jennifer, in her sixteen years with Molly, had never seen her like this, and kissed her daughter's forehead. For the first time in nine years, she didn't refuse. "Mom," Molly choked out, grabbing the sleeve of Jennifer's robe, hoping she wouldn't break down again, "Zeke raped me."

Everything after that was sort of a blur: her mother jumping to her feet, the phone ringing for what seemed like hours, someone sliding a pair of pajamas on her, soft conversations, loud conversations, muted voices mingling into one. Molly didn't know why she became oblivious to it, maybe because she fell asleep, maybe because she was still hung-over, but she didn't want to wake up.

The grandfather clock in the hallway struck eight-thirty in the morning, but Jennifer had yet to fall asleep; in fact, she had only acquired a lone half hour before Molly had come home. She knew she must've looked a wreck: still in a robe, hair a bit limp and greasy, dark circles under her dark blue eyes. Still, when the doorbell rang, Jennifer jumped to her feet with surprising energy, running to the front door, just because she knew how it was. "Andy, thank God you came."

Andy was now twenty-four, fresh out of college, but already married, to Daisy McQueen (better known as Lotso's former owner) who had her hand entwined with his. He was still as lanky as he had been six years ago, but with a little more build, his dark brown hair not quite as shaggy, still a bit long. Daisy had her long blond hair pulled into twin ponytails, almost the same height as Andy, both with expressions of fear. "Mom," he said, pulling his mother, whom was a bit shorter then him, into a hug, which was when she began to cry.

"Andy," Jennifer whispered again, stroking his hair, tears sliding down her cheeks onto his navy T-shirt, "honey, I'm so afraid for her." She didn't know if these words were directed to him, or towards herself, but Andy only held onto his mother, thinking about how she described the situation on the phone. His little sister, his own flesh and blood, she had been through…that, the inexplicable vulgarity that made him ill at the thought. "What do we do?"

"I can call the police," Daisy softly volunteered, answered by a nod from each Davis, heading into the kitchen to get in contact with the police. Jennifer wondered how she had forgotten to call 911, and squeezed her son's hand, keeping the tears back after her short cry.

Molly stirred on the couch, sighing softly, thinking that she was back in bed, on a school morning, having to drag herself out of bed to get dressed, until cold realization hit her like a block of ice. She sat up, feeling the burning pain that still remained, a bit quieter, but there nonetheless, feeling terrified in the darkness. "Mom?" she called out softly, scared, seeing the shapes in the kitchen, voices and slams of phones. "Mom?"

Jennifer was quick to comfort her daughter, scooting a sleeping Buster out of the way to pull Molly into her arms again, thinking of how mercilessly her daughter was treated in the hands of someone she was supposed to love. "It's okay honey," she whispered, stroking the teenager's hair, waiting to see if she would cry. None came, so Jennifer kept her in her arms, hearing Andy and Daisy discussing something softly. "Andy and Daisy are here from Perdido Beach, they came to help."

Molly was a bit relieved; Andy and Daisy were both great voices of reason, Andy on the more logical approach, while Daisy was gentler, motherly. She had never been excited to see her older brother when he visited, but now, she wanted him more then anything, for him to squeeze her hand and give one of those weary half-smiles. "Can I see them?"

"Of course, they're just calling the police now, but they'll come in here in a second," Jennifer replied, waiting for her to nod or make a noise of agreement. What she got was for Molly to push away from her arms, so suddenly that fat, lazy Buster hopped off of the sofa. From the exhausted, scarred face, anger was beginning to spread, starting from her eyes and just going.

"Mom, you can't arrest Zeke," Molly argued angrily, her voice a bit hoarser then she expected, so she cleared her throat, staring right at her mother.

"Honey, he committed a crime, he has to be arrested, he's going to prison."

"Mom, no, he's my boyfriend, you can't do this him-"

"Honey, he _raped_ you, this is a serious offense!"

Andy walked back into the living room, still tense, especially when he heard them arguing about Zeke, and at the tears threatening to spill from his mother's eyes. "Molly?" he asked, her eyes redirecting to his, and she jumped to her feet, a little wobbly, but she ran over to hug him anyway, feeling his strong arms holding her close, safe, away from what happened the previous night. "Don't cry, I've got you."

From inside the kitchen, Daisy watched her husband comfort Molly, feeling a little twinge of happiness from the scene and sympathy for the blonde, afraid to venture out into the thick of the situation. She may've been married to Andy, but this was his family, his problem, she was his partner in this.

She felt tears in her eyes, watching Andy, at how comforting he was, and looked down, tears sliding down her cheeks, wishing she had a way to tell him. Daisy turned her head to the window, hoping she wouldn't draw his attention. "Oh Andy, you're going to make such a good father."

**Le Gasp! Daisy is pregnant? Andy and Daisy have called the police to arrest Zeke? Molly doesn't want Zeke to be arrested? =O! What will happen now; it's up to you reviewers to decide, because I grow dependent on reviews for inspiration! Leave a review, and check out, for those who are fans, my AatC/TS cross-over! **


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